


whenever I'm alone with you (you make me feel like I am home again)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity and Oliver have been sleeping together for 8 months; an office tryst and 3 words redefine everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whenever I'm alone with you (you make me feel like I am home again)

**Author's Note:**

> **inspiration** : [gif](http://oi40.tinypic.com/15h9uw.jpg) ([source](http://sexx-tasy.tumblr.com/post/52482820864))  
>  **polyvore** : [link](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=111410852)

 

He was watching her, his brow heavy over his eyes, his finger resting against his mouth. She could feel his eyes on her like a laser, following every movement; he was probably counting her breaths, which were getting heavier the longer this went on. They were at work, so whatever he thought was going to happen,  _wasn't_. Certain places were off-limits, the offices of Queen Consolidated and the foundry being two. Of course, that second one had only been added to the list after Digg had found them going at it on the mats or in her computer chair... six too many times.

But she was not going to be convinced this time. The walls were made of glass for Google's sake! And yes, sure, it was late and there probably wasn't anyone but security and cleaning staff roaming the halls, neither of which came to this level until they'd left, but that wasn't the point. They were not having sex in his office. No matter how many times she'd thought about it. And she had. How easy it would be to bend over that desk and let him hike her skirt up to her hips… She bit her lip at the mental image. His hands, rough and callused, but touching her reverently, lightly dragging up her bare legs… Her breath stuttered out of her and she blinked a few times, staring at the screen in front of her sightlessly. She'd let her hands lean down on the keyboard while her mind wandered and a long string of nonsense was spelled out in front of her. She hoped he couldn't see how flushed she was and pressed down on the backspace button with more frustration than completely necessary.

She checked the time and frowned. Oliver had a lot of paperwork to do and it wasn't likely they'd be leaving for at least another hour. And that was if he'd actually concentrate on his work and not her. Don't get her wrong, it was flattering. Eight months they'd been doing this.  _This_  being the not completely defined sexual history between them. Then again, if she had to define it the only words that would spring to attention would be along the lines of mind blowing and extremely fulfilling.

Maybe she didn't need the added flowery words she usually wanted in a relationship, it wasn't like she was  _un_ satisfied with how Oliver's body language said a lot more than his mouth did. Besides, having his mouth preoccupied with other things certainly benefited her. But there were some negative aspects to them being in a purely physical relationship. Well, maybe not 'purely' considering she was still his friend and partner and executive assistant. So the physical part was more like a fringe benefit or a stress reliever of having those other three important roles in his life. The problem was that she fell in love with him long before they started sleeping together and in those moments afterwards, when the anticipation and need wore off, he was tender and sweet and extremely willing to cuddle. So what was a girl supposed to do when faced with that side of him when her heart was already way too devoted to him?

"Felicity?"

She looked up abruptly, drawn from her deep thoughts. The deep furrow between her brows and the purse of her lips told her that her confusion and uncertainty were showing on her face. She smoothed it out and raised a brow at him, seeing that he was waving a file at her like he needed her expertise on whatever it was he was going over. She highly doubted that. Not only because she wasn't exactly a business maven, but also because she was pretty sure he hadn't been working for at least a half hour. But, despite knowing where it might lead, she stood from her desk and circled it to walk into his office. She kept some distance between them, hands clasped together in front of her. "Yes?"

"Can you take a look at this?"

She narrowed her eyes at the file he held as he sat behind his desk and then held a hand out for him to bring it to her. "Sure. I'll look it over at my desk and get back to you."

He let out a quick huff of breath and then stood to walk to her, buttoning his jacket as he went. Her eyes fell to his hand, sliding a button into its slot, the fabric hugging his broad frame. It wasn't fair that he looked so good in a suit. Any suit, really. Hugo Boss or leather. She shook her head slightly and raised her eyes. Meeting his gaze was a mistake; his eyes were dark, the mask of CEO slipping as Oliver,  _her_ Oliver, replaced him. There was almost a dangerous edge to his face when he was aroused, like all the shadows collected around the angles of his face to make him look that much more lethal. That shouldn't have been attractive to her, actually. In fact, she was pretty sure most people would want to take a step back instead of forward. But she didn't subscribe to self-preservation, not when it came to him, so she stepped forward, hand still out to accept the folder.

He didn't stop at a respectable distance, instead he was close enough that the back of her hand rested against his chest while he held the folder a few inches to the right of them.

"It's getting late," he said, staring down at her. "We should head home soon."

"And we will, just as soon as you finish with your paperwork," she replied, hoping her voice wasn't as breathless as she felt.

His gaze fell to her mouth. "It'll still be here in the morning. It's not going anywhere."

"No, but tomorrow is Saturday, and you promised Thea you'd spend it with her, so you won't have time to come back and work on anything." She raised an eyebrow, tempted to cross her arms over her chest to make herself seem more serious, but that would mean drawing her hand from his chest, and she rather liked where it was.

"I'll spend Sunday with her," he bargained.

She shook her head. "Nope. Saturday. She's spending Sunday in meetings with vendors." She raised a finger. "And don't try to say you'll come back tomorrow night just because Verdant will be busy. You have patrolling tomorrow night  _and_  you promised you'd help her out with the club for a few hours. Putting in an appearance looks good since the public still relates Verdant with you."

He sighed, pursing his lips in a frown. "Well, if we're going to be here all night, we can take some time, can't we? Get dinner?"

"Already done, it'll be here in…" She checked her watch. "Thirty, maybe forty minutes."

"Great." He turned, tossing the file back toward his desk aimlessly. "That's plenty of time."

"Oliver…"

He smirked down at her and settled his hands on her waist, tugging her another step forward. "You sound stressed, Felicity…" He leaned forward until his eyes were level with hers. "I can help with that."

His hands slid up her back, gripping the silk of her blouse and tugging it free of her skirt.

"We agreed, not at work," she reminded, reaching behind her for his hands. He locked their fingers together, holding her wrists against her lower back. It was a familiar hold he put her in when he had her on her knees while he took her from behind, one she could shake off if she wanted to, but rarely did.

"Work is over, technically," he said ducking down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "This is overtime… You deserve a bonus." He kissed down her jawline, nuzzling his way behind her ear to suckle a kiss in that spot that made her knees shake.

She let out a sharp breath and squeezed his hands. He released one and she reached up to curl it around the back of his neck, her nails lightly dragging through his hair. His free hand slid up the back of her blouse, fingertips rubbing up and down her skin, making her shiver. She stepped closer, her hips pressing to his, and her hand found the collar of his shirt and jacket, giving it a tug. His mouth trailed down her neck, teeth and lips marking and sucking as he went.

"We should stop," she murmured. "Finish work and go h-home…"

He unbuttoned the back of her blouse, at the nape of her neck, before his hand fled up into her hair, finding the elastic holding her hair up and pulling it free. Her hair tumbled down her back and Oliver was quick to sift his fingers through it, his hand cradling her head as she let it fall back. He kissed across her neck, trailing down to her collar bones.

He turned them, her feet stumbling for a moment, and backed them toward his desk.

"Rules," she said, blinking her eyes open. "No office."

"Exceptions." His hands dropped to the bottom of her skirt and started pulling it up to her waist. "No sex during office hours… unless it's an emergency."

She raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted by his hands kneading their way up the back of her thighs. "Emergency?"

He shrugged, his hands cupping her ass and squeezing. "We live a dangerous life."

"That require us to have sex?" she asked, stifling her amusement as she looked up at him.

"Never say never," he murmured, ducking down to kiss her, his mouth slanting over hers.

Felicity's head went fuzzy, her argument fading into the background as she focused on Oliver's lips pressed to hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He sucked on her bottom lip, tugging on it with his teeth. She sighed, sinking into him, and he chuckled against her mouth, teasing her top lip as he slid his fingers down between her legs and rubbed her slit through the fabric of her black, lace underwear. She couldn't deny she was wet. She was headed that way long before he touched her; having his eyes on her was its own kind of turn on, but having him touch her had multiplied that ten-fold. His touch was light, teasing her while he took his time on her mouth.

Felicity loved kissing. She could spend hours just doing that, especially with him. Oliver's mouth should be a national treasure. But then she wouldn't get to enjoy it as much, so maybe not.

Her hands slid around to unbutton his jacket, shaking as they went down the string of buttons on the front of his shirt too, parting the fabric so she could touch his bare skin. She hummed happily as her hands pressed flat to his chest, firm and warm. She curled her fingers in and scratched lightly, her blue nails digging in a little. He grunted at the sensation and pressed his hips against her, nudging her further back.

She felt the edge of his desk press into the back of her legs. His hands slid up to the edges of her underwear and dragged them down as she eased herself back onto the sturdy desktop. He dragged the fabric down her legs, while she raised her knees to help him get them off completely. He stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket and slid his hands up her legs, finding her hips and lifting her, placing her further back on the desk.

He found the bottom of her ruffled blouse and started pulling it up. She raised her arms to help and he tossed the shirt away, letting it fall to the ground, before one of his hands found the back clasp of her bra and snapped it open with ease. His free hand was pressed flat to her chest, dragging down. She shrugged the straps of her bra down her arms, the cups falling free and his hand settled in the valley between her breasts. Bra in her lap, she pulled it out of the way and watched through hooded eyes as he cupped either of her breasts, his thumb teasing one nipple while his mouth fell to suckle the other, his teeth scraping around the edges.

Felicity ran her hands down to Oliver's ribs, scraping her nails as she went, and smiled as he grunted, nipping the top of her breast. He was leaning her back, following her down, his mouth leaving sucking kisses all over her chest, his tongue swirling around her nipples. She gripped the lapels of his jacket, her head meeting his desk, hair spread out around her. She pulled her legs up, the heels of her shoes balanced on the edge as her knees squeezed his sides.

Oliver kissed down her body, his hands smoothing from her ribs down to where her skirt was bunched over her stomach. He tugged it up, drawing fabric out of his way as he ducked past it. His mouth found the inside of her left thigh, his whiskers scraping against her skin. Her legs flexed at the feeling. While he was kissing down her leg, his hand found the top of her mound, fingers dragging down her pussy, separating and teasing her folds before he thrust a finger inside her and curled it. Her back arched up, mouth falling open in a silent cry. Oliver licked a long strip down her thigh, nibbling closer and closer to where his finger was slowly drawing out of her.

"Oliver…" she said, frustrated with how near, and far, he was.

One of her hands found the top of his head as he chuckled at her impatience. She tugged on his hair demandingly, but he merely unfurled her fingers from their grip and kissed the inside of her wrist before he raised her hand and brought it to her breast, placing her thumb on her nipple.

He traded his mouth to her opposite thigh and repeated the whole thing, this time adding a second finger inside her, moving a little deeper and faster. She rocked her hips to meet his fingers, teasing her breasts as she watched him watch her, his eyes glued to her fingers rubbing circles and plucking at her nipples. When she finally felt his breath on her pussy, she cried out, a cracked, desperate noise from the middle of her chest. He pressed a sucking kiss to her clit and flattened a hand on her stomach to keep her from bucking.

His tongue was moving in patterns she didn't have enough brain power to make out, all she knew was that it felt  _amazing_. She loved when he did this, and he seemed to like doing it, since he spent a lot of time with his head between her legs. When they'd first begun sleeping together, it'd been a stressful night, adrenaline was high, near-death experiences abundant, and they'd come together in a flurry of angry worry for each other. He had her pinned to a wall in the foundry, his leather pants around his knees and her skirt pressed up out of the way. He'd literally torn her underwear off, which she later lamented over since they were a favorite of hers. Admittedly, the loss of a cute thong was definitely worth it.

The second time they had sex, he'd climbed in her window through the fire escape, out of his suit but still wearing the paint around his eyes. He'd wanted to talk and it had started that way, over a bottle of red she dug out for the occasion. But one thing led to another and talking turned into holding and holding turned into slow comfort sex with him sitting on her couch and her in his lap. From there, things just progressed. They didn't always need a reason except for wanting to, while other nights it was because the life they led was hard and stressful and they needed to hold on to each other as tightly and as completely as they could.

And some nights it was different. Some nights he crawled through her window and he stripped off his clothes and climbed into her bed, scooping her up and spooning in behind her, hugging her tight, his face buried in her hair, falling asleep holding her like she was the only stable thing in his life. Then there were the days he dropped to his knees, shoved her skirt up her waist and ate her out without looking for the same in return, happy just to bury his mouth between her legs and watch her come, crying his name out, her eyes open, meeting his, watching that possessive, passionate look darken his face.

She was sure there was a pattern but she didn't look into it too deeply. She liked where things were. Sure, she wanted the dates that came with a relationship, the kissing and handholding that happened outside of closed doors. She wanted whispered words of love and the freedom to reach for him in the light of day without being worried who might see. But even if they were in a relationship, some of that probably wouldn't happen. Oliver was still too concerned that his life, be it as Oliver Queen, CEO, or Arrow, would wind up getting those he cared about hurt. He refused to risk it and so this was their middle-ground. They couldn't be together, but they couldn't be apart either.

As much as it was a sacrifice at times, it was hard to remember that with his tongue making her see stars, his fingers moving inside her at just the right speed and angle that whatever was coming out of her mouth right now was not English. She wasn't even sure it was words. Mostly just desperate, keening noises.

Wrapping her legs around him, her heel dug into his back as she felt his teeth lightly graze her, his nose nuzzling her clit. The whiskers on his chin were rubbing against her in the best way, his cheeks scraping against her inner thighs. She reached for the his shoulder and balled up the fabric of his jacket as he focused on her clit, sucking and teasing while his fingers picked up pace inside her. Her whole body started to tense up from head to toe, the pleasure flooding through her and rising. Her breath caught in her throat as it crested, her eyes squeezing shut momentarily before she let out a shuddering breath and fell apart.

There was a moment where she felt like she was floating, caught up in the way her whole body went light, buzzing and warm. And then she came back down, panting and loose. Oliver was standing, his hands soothingly rubbing up and down her legs, waiting for her to look up at him. She gave him a blissful smile and held her hands out. He took them, drawing her forward, and her legs fall down from around his waist.

She took hold of his tie and tugged him down for a kiss; he'd wiped his mouth on his shoulder, but his tongue still tasted of her. While he pressed closer, eagerly meeting her mouth, she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and dragged it down his arms, letting it fall to the floor behind him. She loosened his tie from around his neck, but left it on, laying against his bare chest, his shirt parted. She dragged her fingers down his front, scraping her nails over his nipples, smiling as he growled, a deep vibration from his chest, and soothed them with her thumbs, rubbing light circles around each. Her hands delved lower, knuckles passing over his ribs before she traced his abdomen with her fingers, taking her time before she delved lower, following scars and muscle to his hip bones and following the defined lines to the waist of his pants. She unbuckled his belt with ease and set on the button and zipper.

Oliver was kissing down her neck as she slid a hand beneath his pants to cup him through his boxer-briefs, squeezing. He let out a heavy breath against her neck and kissed a soft path across her shoulder, nipping the ball and soothing it with his tongue.

She tugged his pants and underwear down his hips, thumbs rubbing over bared skin. She pushed the fabric down and out of the way, her hands settling on and gripping his ass while she slid off the desk and dropped to her knees. He looked down at her, one hand braced on the desk and the other threading in her hair. She licked a strip up the underside of his cock and swirled her tongue around the head.

She was sure there was something very clichéd about an executive assistant on her knees for her boss, but seeing as he was pushing the after-hours reasoning, she preferred to think the EA and boss label could be discarded. Partners; they were partners. She kissed her way down his shaft, her hands wrapping around him, squeezing, pumping and twisting in tandem. His hand was shaking; she could feel his fingers flexing in her hair. He was panting, his stomach tightening with each swipe of her tongue. There was something infinitely intimate and powerful about having a man as large and in control as him at her mercy. And he was. He was trembling with the effort it took not to give into her. Oliver preferred to be inside her when he came and she couldn't fault that; those moments after were always her favorite.

When he tugged on her hair, she recognized her cue and released him, sliding her hands up his stomach as she stood.

The tension in his face was clear, but he still paused to kiss her leisurely, his hands running down her back from her shoulders to her thighs, fingertips dragging lightly, teasingly over her skin. This was when it felt like more than just sex. When it felt like Oliver wasn't just fucking her, but making love to her. He sat back in his desk chair, his hands still on her thighs, and leaned back, looking up at her, a fire in his eyes that made her stomach clench up with appreciation.

She reached behind her and pushed her skirt down from her waist to fall at her feet, kicking it free. Scooping up his jacket, she dug into the inside pocket and came up with the condom he always kept there for…  _emergencies_. She wondered if he'd been doing that before they started sleeping together, but she was fairly sure it was a new development. As much as she'd teased him about the emergency line earlier, he did have a point. They got into life and death situations often and at the worst times, meaning they took comfort in each other in places that weren't always an equipped bedroom with a condom drawer.

She tore the condom wrapper open with her teeth and rolled it down his cock, stroking him before she climbed into his lap, knees braced on the seat. His hands found the back of her thighs and slid up, cupping her ass and kneading as she adjusted them, lining him up between her legs. She leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders and dragging over his chest as she met his lips. She sunk down on him, his breath stuttering against her mouth and his fingers squeezing her ass. She gripped his shoulders, chest to chest with him as her hips rocked, sliding down until she was seated completely. She met his eyes, their lips parted, panting against each other. He slid a hand up to the small of her back and drew circles lightly, tipping his chin as he caught her bottom lip between his teeth.

When she started moving, he kept his eyes on her the whole time. She could see the pleasure crossing his face, the furrow of his brows, the set of his mouth, the darkening of his eyes, his pupils dilating. He watched her as she rode him, squeezing her eyes shut momentarily when his cock rubbed that spot inside her that made her toes curl. He always made her feel so full, like he was reaching the whole of her.

A warmth spread throughout her, deeper and hotter wherever his fingers touched. He found the backs of her high heels and pushed them off, his fingers sliding down the arches of her feet and massaging, his palm cupping and rubbing her heel. From there, he made his way up her body; tracing her ankles, massaging her calves, tickling the back of her knees, teasing her thighs, kneading her ass. He followed the flare of her hips up her back, his fingers digging in over her ribs as she circled her hips and clenched around him. His hands slid up to her shoulders and trailed down her arms, rubbing them slowly, methodically, as she dug her nails into his biceps. His thumbs rubbed the inside of her elbows before trailing down her forearms to her wrists, swiping back and forth over her pulse. And then his hands found the tops of her thighs and ran up her hips, tickling her sides to make her laugh, biting her lip as her head fell back. He rubbed the sides of her breasts, pressed to his chest, nipples rubbing against him as she moved.

He slid his hands around behind her and brought them up to her shoulders once more, squeezing as he pulled her in, ducking his head to kiss her neck, suckling and biting at her pulse point. One of his arms banded around her waist, hugging her close, and slid her hands up to his face, fingers delving into his hair. She ducked to kiss the top of his head and kept her hips moving in a circle.

Pleasure was spiking inside her, jolts of it making her thighs tense up.

He pulled his head back, kissing her chin, and planted his feet on the floor as he pushed up to meet her. She let out a shuddering breath as he thrust into her harder, his pace much quicker than hers, chasing completion. She lost herself in the feeling of him moving inside her, his stomach hard against her soft, his whole body a coiled wall of muscle while hers was pliant. His hand curled around the back of her neck, holding her steady as he fucked her, his mouth hovering just in front of hers. She hummed, the build-up finally reaching its peak. She breathed his name, staring down at him as she came, her eyes wide, her whole body shaking with the feeling. That free floating feeling was back and she smiled, enjoying every second of it. Time slowed down for a moment, muting everything, as she let herself be consumed.

"Look at me."

Her eyes opened, falling to meet his once more.

He stared up at her intensely, reverently, and finally the tension melted away. " _Felicity_ ," he choked out, her name like a prayer he'd never get tired of.

His arms wrapped around her, his hips still moving, stuttering against her, until finally they both just sunk back into his chair, replete. His forehead found her shoulder, his panting breath cool on her skin, damp with sweat. His hands were gentle on her back, rubbing and kneading the length of it while he sunk into her embrace. She knew she had to get up and get dressed, but she wasn't completely sure her legs would hold her. She feathered her fingers through his hair and just enjoyed the afterglow for a moment. As much as the rest felt good, this felt better.

Oliver kissed her skin lightly, nuzzling his nose against her. One of his hands stroked down her hair, his lips mouthing at her neck. Seconds or minutes could have passed; she wasn't sure. She just sat there, her hand running up and down the back of his neck, occasionally followed by her lips pressing a kiss to his nape.

His fingers were drawing large infinity signs over her lower back when he pressed a kiss under her chin and behind her ear and said, "I love you."

She went completely still then, her eyes wide and her heart skipping a beat.

_What?_

She wanted to yell that question. Scream it. Because that was not… They were not… She had been careful not to say exactly that for a very long time. And now he was casually throwing it out in post-sex bliss?  _No_. He probably didn't even know he was saying it and, after, he would have his mini freak out about commitment and danger, which would lead to him calling off their physical relationship completely. Then things would get weird. Like, we used to have amazing, mind-blowing sex, but then I realized I was probably leading you on so I had to stop before it became something real, weird.

So Felicity decided ignoring it was the best option. However, that was hard to do when she was wrapped around him, naked, and he was still, well, inside her. Drawing back, she used her hands on the arms of the chair to climb out of his lap. She avoided looking at him as she gathered up her clothes. "We should get dressed. Dinner will be here soon and you still have at least an hour's worth of work left to do."

"I already ate."

She looked up to find him watching her, an eyebrow raised.

Flushing, she told herself not to look at the table she'd just been draped over, his mouth busily working away between her legs. Oh, he ate, but she was pretty sure she benefited a lot more from that meal than he did.

Clearing her throat, she turned on her heel and walked to the attached bathroom to get refreshed and get redressed. Looking at herself in the mirror, she cursed. The delivery guy was going to know exactly what she was just doing. Soaking a cloth in the sink, she started cleaning up. Her make-up was smudged, her hair was wild, and Oliver's whiskers had left distinct red burns all over her neck and shoulders, along with the many hickeys he'd marked her with.

Pulling on her bra and blouse, she reached for her skirt and remembered that her underwear was still in his coat pocket. Maybe he wouldn't remember and she would just get through the night without them. It felt a little uncomfortable and extremely noticeable, but she wasn't going to go out there and get them from him. Not when those words were still fresh in her ears.

 _I love you_.

She'd wondered what they might sound like coming from him and directed at her. Quiet with that deep vibration in his voice that always made her breath catch. She wanted to hear it again, immediately, but she knew the likelihood of that was small. This was a one-time thing. He was still coming down from an orgasm. Just because he said it didn't mean he meant it. Still, her heart turned over at the thought.

Sighing, she looked back at the mirror, lamenting that her hair wasn't getting any less tangled. She had a brush and elastic in her purse but that meant leaving the bathroom and facing him, which wasn't exactly something she wanted to do. Still, staying in the bathroom the rest of the night wasn't an option and would eventually begin to look suspicious.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open and walked out. Apparently, while she'd been freaking out, the food had arrived. Oliver was unpacking it from the brown delivery bag, his shirt buttoned back up and his pants on. He hadn't bothered with his jacket and his tie was tossed over his shoulder and out of the way.

Felicity spotted her shoes on the floor, near the jacket her underwear was tucked in. She walked toward them, bending to grab each, even though her knees were wobbly enough without adding four inches to the equation. She took her shoes with her to her office and traded them in for a pair of cat-face flats, pausing to brush and tie her hair out of the way. It was obvious enough to her that she was wasting time so she wouldn't have to go back and see if he was acting differently. Maybe he'd already realized what he said and was coming up with some way to take it back or explain it away…

When she had nothing else left to distract herself, she finally walked back into his office to sit on the sofa, the glass coffee table wearing their dinner. He was at the bar pouring them each a glass of bourbon. She tried not to watch him as he came back, but there was something incredibly distracting about the way he moved, graceful and agile in a way she could never accomplish.

He put her glass down in front of her before he circled to sit beside her. The sofa had never seemed so small before, their shoulders pressed together. For once, the torrent of words always eager to escape and fill any silence failed her and she was left sitting with nothing but the noise of food containers being opened and utensils being used.

"Digg texted earlier. He's taking Lyla out for dinner and dancing," she finally said.

He hummed, staring down at the food in front of him. "Good. He deserved a night off."

She nodded, filling her mouth so she wouldn't have to speak.

Time passed slowly, dragging as she struggled with the panic that welled up in her stomach.

He was acting weird. It wasn't just her. Which meant he knew what he said and probably regretted it. What did that mean? What if he decided it wasn't just their physical relationship that had to end? What if he decided they needed more space? She wasn't sure she could handle it if he decided to push her away completely. She was okay with the 'friends' thing. She understood that there were obligations in his life. Plus, he still loved Laurel, and that wasn't a train she wanted to jump on if it was going to end the way she was sure it would. With a happily ever after for them and heartbreak for her. But then, more than a year ago, he told her that he and Laurel were over, that she wasn't going to be a blind-spot for him anymore. He was letting go and moving on, restructuring his life and his goals. And that was good, that was better for him and for their team. But that didn't mean he was inviting Felicity in to be the #1 woman in his life. She was his relief, his comfort, who he went to both when he needed help tracking down the latest bad guy and when he needed to come down from that mission, whether it was a success or a fail. She was not his girlfriend but his lover, or maybe that wasn't an accurate word, especially given the current context.

He sighed, long and loud, and her head swiveled toward him.

He was looking at her, brow furrowed, and it seemed like all the tension that bled out of him before had returned and doubled.

"Are we going to talk about it?"

She pursed her lips. "There's nothing to talk about."

He stared at her. "I told you I loved you."

She paused; she hadn't expected him to just blurt it out like that. "I know. I was there."

He frowned at her in frustration. "You didn't say it back."

Okay, that wasn't what she'd expected to hear. Brow furrowed, she replied, "Was I…  _supposed_  to?"

His teeth clenched, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "That depends.  _Do_ you?"

She stared up at him. "Do I what?"

He cast his eyes up. " _Felicity_."

Ah, whereas he'd been saying her name with breathless appreciation only twenty minutes ago, now he was saying it with all the irritation he possessed.

"I'm not sure what you want from me right now," she murmured, looking down at her food, picking at it with her fork.

"I want you to be honest, like you've always been with me."

Chewing her lip, she raised her eyes, but only managed to look at his chin. "Did you mean it?" she wondered, brows hiked and a note of insecurity entering her voice.

He sighed, this time softly, quietly, and his shoulders fell a little. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

She made it to his nose. "Since when?"

"Since… longer than I can remember. A year, maybe two."

Her eyes flashed up to his. "Two years!?"

He shrugged. "I'm not good with words."

" _Oliver!_ " She stared at him searchingly. "You should've said something."

"I did, and you ran away." He motioned toward the bathroom.

She glared at him. "That's different!"

" _How?_ "

"We've been sleeping together for eight months and during that time I thought it was just  _that_. Comfort sex! At no point did it seem like you had real feelings for me. I thought you were just—just  _stressed_  and you trusted me so you thought it made sense!" She threw her hands up, rice flinging from her fork.

"I'd never  _use_ you like that," he said, his voice hard, but his face showing the hurt that bled through.

She calmed down then. "I didn't say you were using me. I was obviously a willing participant. I just… I didn't think you thought of me as more than… that."

He looked away, his eyes closing momentarily, and when he looked back he shook his head. Dragging a hand down his mouth, he said, "You're one of the most important people in my life. And I've spent a long time trying to accept that being close to you and having you play such a big part in all of this might not get you killed." He swallowed tightly. "I'm not saying I don't still feel guilty or that I'm not completely terrified that one day you aren't going to be here and that will be all my fault, but… Sometimes I miss you when you're right in front of me and I'm tired of letting this run every aspect of my life. So if I can have just one thing for myself, just one part of this that's good, then I want it to be you." He licked his lips and reached for her, taking her hand into his and squeezing tightly. "I love you, Felicity."

She stared at him, her heart beating loudly in her ears, and she struggled with what she wanted to say. She'd let herself dream of this sometimes. Of moments where clarity would hit him and he'd suddenly realize that he could be happy with her, he could have more with her than what he already did. But actually having it happen felt so much bigger, so much  _deeper_ than what she'd imagined. She felt ridiculous when tears bit at her eyes but she'd been in love with this man for  _so long_ and now it was finally happening. Something she wasn't even sure  _would_ happen,  _was_ and…

"I love you, too," she whispered emotionally.

He stared at her, looking hopeful but still uncertain.

She rolled her eyes and reached for him, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck. "I  _love_  you, Oliver."

And slowly a smile spread across his mouth as he leaned forward to kiss her, softer than he had all night, and she sighed, melting into it.

Things weren't perfect, they had a lot to discuss about what this would mean for the team and precautions as to who would know and whether it would be public or still private for safety's sake, but… They were together, they loved each other, and that was all she could really ask for. Their life was never going to be easy or normal, but it was theirs and she couldn't, wouldn't, want for anything different.

{ **end** }

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to take a break from writing and then this happened, lol. I hope you like it. My muse is feeling finicky lately. :(
> 
> Please review; they keep me going!
> 
> - **Lee | Fina**


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